[Our opening contest for Rage begins with both men in the ring, and a quiet lull of the audience, gazing in wonder at the two insane men who are about to unleash hell upon one another. Scarie stretches out and Lycanthropy squats down and eyes his opponent]

Joey: Lycanthropy about to square off with the newcomer, Mr. Scarie, in Scarie’s debut here in w2k.

Trunks: This match had damn sure better be violent, because neither of them have gimmicks that are going anywhere.

Joey: That has yet to be seen! Here’s the opening bell!

[The two men slowly pace in a circle at the edge of the ring. They begin stepping closer to one another, trying to size the other up. They both run in for a collar and elbow tie-up, and Lycanthropy wins the test of strength, throwing Scarie down to the mat.]

Joey: Score one for Lycanthropy!

Trunks: You may want to score with him…but sure don’t.

Joey: Get a grip!

[Scarie quickly back to his feet, and we get a tie-up once more, but this time, it’s Scarie who pushes Lycanthropy down. He rolls to his knees and looks up at the masked man who mimics the howling of a wolf. Lycanthropy back to his feet as well and they go for a third tie-up, but Lycanthropy throws a knee deep into the gut of Mr. Scarie. He sends a few clubbing forearms into the back of the neck of the masked man. He then scoops up Scarie and drives him hard into the mat with a powerslam. He drops a few solid elbows into the chest of Scarie and then settles on kicking the man while he’s down]

Joey: Lycanthropy is relentless here in the very early going of this match.

Trunks: RIP HIS MASK OFF!

Joey: What?!

Trunks: This match isn’t hardcore enough, I want some excitement.

[Scarie rolls out of the ring to avoid the early abuse by Lycanthropy. Lycanthropy looks at him catching his breath on the outside, and is quick to follow. Lycanthropy tries powering Scarie into the guardrail, but Scarie climbs up the rail as he is pushed back, and hits a tornado DDT, pushing off of the railing. The fans "OOOHHH" at the sight of Lycanthropy’s head bouncing off the ground. It is Scarie who begins the assault now, basically just jumping onto Lycanthropy, crushing him beneath his body weight. He picks up Lycanthropy and delivers a few hard chops to his chest. Scarie goes for a slam, but instead, hooks Lycanthropy’s legs in the guardrail, in a Tree of Woe position. He reaches below the ring and grabs a steel chair and climbs to the ring apron. He looks down at Lycanthropy and then jumps from the ring and nails a Van Terminator on Lycanthropy!]

Joey: DEAR SWEET JESUS OMNIPOTENT IN HEAVEN ABOVE!

Trunks: THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!

[The fans begin a certain chant, and Scarie looks around the arena. He picks up the chair and slams it into the abdomen of Lycanthropy. Lycanthropy finally rolls from out of the precarious position he found himself in. Scarie goes for a piledriver, but Lycanthropy reverses it, and in a scary moment (no pun intended), Scarie looks as if he were going to try and catch himself on the ring ropes, but smacks his face on the apron. Both men lay winded outside the ring here in the early going. After some rolling around, Lycanthropy slowly climbs to his feet, and turns around to grab the chair. As he turns back, Scarie leaps at him, but misses, and collides with the ring post. Lycanthropy quickly turns around and smacks Scarie with the chair, sandwiching him between the chair and ring post. He goes for it again, but Scarie slumps down, and the chair sends a wave of reverberation up the arms of Lycanthropy, who drops the chair and shakes it out.]

Joey: That has to sting.

Trunks: No, really? Call the match, Joey.

Joey: Who are you to tell ME to call the match?

Trunks: TRUNKS, BITCH!

[Lycanthropy picks up Scarie and whips him hard into the ring steps. He goes in for a spear, but Scarie moves out of the way, and Lycanthropy knocks the steps clear off the ring. Scarie to his feet and grabs the steel chair, and lays in a few licks to the fallen Lycanthropy. He drops the chair and hits a sickening sitout gutwrench powerbomb from the first half of the steel steps, throwing Lycanthropy onto the second set of steps that came off the ring. He then scoops Lycanthropy up once more, and gets him in a standing head scissors. He makes some motion, and then picks up Lycanthropy, and folds his legs down, and drills Lycanthropy into the steps with a cradle piledriver! The blood is starting to flow down the face of Lycanthropy after that blow. Scarie kneels over him and starts delivering punches into the cut, opening it up nicely. He wipes Lycanthropy’s blood on his burlap sackmask, and kicks him a few times. Feeling confident, Scarie goes under the ring to see what he can find. He pulls out a trashcan, full of goodies, and slides it out. He also throws a few tables into the ring. He looks through the can and finds a weapon, a large broomstick, but by this time, Lycanthropy has gotten his wits about him and Scarie turns around into a kick to the gut followed by a Dangerous DDT. He empties the can, and the contents spill out. He takes it and puts it over Scarie’s head and torso, and begins whacking at it with the broomstick. With the can still on Scarie, Lycanthropy picks him and and throws him down onto the steps with a vicious powerbomb. Scarie groggily slides the garbage can off of his head.]

Joey: The action certainly has been picking up here, folks.

Trunks: At least we got some blood. I still wanna see that mask come off.

Joey: It’s his debut. Let the mystique grow a bit!

Trunks: Too many guys come in with masks!

[Back to the action, and both men are breathing heavily after a double chairshot. It’s hard to tell what force they hit one another with, since it looks like both men are feeling gassed. Lycanthropy is up first, and slides Scarie back into the ring. He then throws in some chairs and other bits of fun and rolls into the ring himself. Scarie grabs the ropes to climb back up, but Lycanthropy busts the broomstick over his face. Shards of wood have managed to make a small hole in the sack, and Lycanthropy dives after it, trying to rip it apart, but Scarie seems to have gotten an uncanny 18^{th wind, and is fighting him off.]}

Trunks: TEAR IT OFF! GET IT!

Joey: Will you stop it?

[Scarie goes low, and Lycanthropy feels the heat and drops to his knees. Scarie hits a wicked axe kick on the kneeling Lycanthropy, sending him to his back. He picks up Lycanthropy, and seems to be setting up for a reverse suplex, and instead of falling back, sits down and hits an Osaka Street Cutter! With his opponent down, Scarie goes over and begins opening up the tables he put in the ring earlier. He sets two up right next to one another, the wide way. Scarie grabs Lycanthropy and rolls him onto the tables, and climbs up them himself. He grabs Lycanthropy and goes for a standing head scissors, and makes a noose motion, signaling for his finisher, but Lycanthropy powers him up, and stands, hooking Scarie’s head and jumping OFF THE TABLES WITH AN EMERALD FROSION! He rolls over onto Scarie for what is shockingly the first cover of the match�?�?2�?KICKOUT!]

Joey: He’s got Him! Oh no…no he doesn’t.

Trunks: Yeesh. Do you ever pay attention?

[Lycanthropy is astonished that he didn’t get the pinfall, and so he begins to get a bit frustrated. He whips a very beaten Scarie into the ropes, and runs full steam ahead, burying a knee into Scarie’s midsection, who flips in mid-air and lands on his back. Lycanthropy climbs to the top rope and tries some move off the top, but can’t really decide which, and eats a faceful of steel chair, courtesy of Scarie. Scarie rolls Lycanthropy over for the cover; 1�?…Shoulder up by Lycanthropy at 2 and 7/8. Scarie whips Lycanthropy into the far corner, and goes in for a shoulderblock, but Lycanthropy moves out of the way and Scarie sails clear out of the ring. Lycanthropy slides out of the ring, and makes Scarie eat the ringpost.]

Joey: That can’t taste good.

Trunks: Why don’t you slather some of your good ol�?barbeque sauce on it you’re always hockin�?

Joey: I don’t hock barbeque sauce, you moron.

Trunks: Sure. And next you’ll say you don’t wear a ten gallon cowboy hat, either.

Joey: What the hell are you talking about?

Trunks: Now you act like you don’t know…psh�?/FONT>

[The big screen lights up and we see Alexander Marsley, who has been gone from our televisions for some weeks. He is standing in a room full of chains, a place that the viewers of w2k have become all too familiar with over the course of Alexander’s career. We pan down and see the w2k Television Title around his waist, which brings about a chorus of cheers from the audience. He is standing, arms folded across his chest, looking into the shadows.]

Alexander: So, is this what it will come down to?

[Alexander asks, into the shadows. A voice, an all too eerily known voice, responds.]

Legion: Yes. If you agree to the terms, than this will be the final battle.

Alexander: What are your terms?

Legion: You and three of your…brothers in arms, against myself and my top three generals. If we win, then I gain possession of your soul, and I indwell your body with my own soul, to walk among the Earth, and unleash hell.

Alexander: An 8-man tag team match? Wrestling? You won’t stand a chance, Legion�?/FONT>

The scene fades out with Sapphire and Vincent kissing.

We cut backstage for a short moment away from the in-ring action, to find ourselves in the average backstage hallway, nothing particularly out of the ordinary. However, as our camera pans around slightly, we spot a rather familiar behind. In front of us stands W2K Championess Isabella Taylor, legs spread slightly, bent completely over, her palms flat on the ground in front of her. As she is dressed in her ring attire, we assume she is simply performing a few pre-match stretches, ready to go out and defend her belt very soon. The sling click of a door opening and closing greets our ears next, as a stagehand pops out of the nearest door. He stops right behind Isabella, apparently wanting to tell her something, but the picture-perfect image of her behind causes a slight distraction. Fortunately however, Isabella spots the guy behind her, as she bends down again, looking between her own legs, rising to her feet to meet him. As she turns around, the guy knows he’s been caught, and becomes speechless, Isabella rolling her eyes in response to his stupidity.

Isabella: What?

Stagehand: Uuh.. sorry.. Ms. Taylor. Mr. McMillion will see you now.

The man scuttles off elsewhere as Isabella nods in response, scooping her Championess Title off the ground, bringing it up to rest on her shoulder proudly. She heads straight into the closest door, and apparently right into Jerm’s office as we switch inside to join her. Apart from Jerm sat behind his desk, he is also joined by the two HBO executives we saw meet with him earlier in the week, Mr. Jameson and Mr. Daniels. The two notice the title on Isabella’s shoulder, and greet her with smiles as she enters the room. She smiles, in a rather fake manner, back at them, but moves past them straight to Jerm’s desk, quick to do business as she does have a match to compete in soon after all.

Isabella: So Jerm, do I get to find out who my mystery opponent is now? My match is next, so I figured that’s the reason I was called here. So, who is it?

Jerm: Firstly Ms. Taylor, it’s Mr. McMillion to you.

Jerm grins around her at the two executives as Isabella rolls her eyes, knowing that he is obviously just trying to show off a little power to these men.

Isabella: Yeah.. whatever Jerm.

His grin falters just slightly at this defiance, as Isabella grins down at him herself, though he recovers with a much sterner tone than before.

Jerm: Secondly, Ms. Taylor, I didn’t call you in here to tell you who your opponent is. You’ll find that out once you’re out there. We can’t allow you any extra preparation time now can we?

Isabella: But of course, that just wouldn’t be fair at all now would it?

Jerm catches the sarcasm, as do the HBO executives, but he lets it slide for now, having more important business to deal with.

Jerm: Ms. Taylor, I’d like you to meet Mr. Daniels and Mr. Jameson. These men are the two HBO executives I’ll be working closely with to revamp our product and turn it into something even W2K has never seen before.

Isabella: Great, so I have these guys to blame for the crap you’re putting me through.

Isabella turns to the two men, shaking each one’s hand rather swiftly and certainly not politely, as she isn’t in the best of moods right now.

Jerm: Ms. Taylor is our W2K Championess, as you have probably gathered. She’s been doing a fantastic job of representing our women’s division for over a year now.

Mr. Daniels: A whole year? That’s very impressive Ms. Taylor. But have you considered what your title reign has been doing to the overall product?

Isabella: I’m not quite sure I follow..

Mr. Jameson: Maybe you should mix it up a little, let someone else have a run for a while, then you can come back to it. It’s a natural step for the business, to take it to the next level. People just like change.

Isabella shakes her head slightly, a little grin on her face as she leans down, getting a little closer to the two men while pointing to her left, presumably in the direction of the ring.

Isabella: That’s funny, because I can show you a couple of thousand screaming fans out there, that’ll tell you otherwise. Those fans are more than happy with me representing them as their Championess, so until someone is good enough to take it from me, it’s staying precisely where it is.

A sarcastic wink from Isabella, as she rises to her full height, turning back to face Jerm, happy to ignore these two gentlemen from here on out after that ridiculous comment.

Jerm: Don’t worry about her gentlemen, our Champions are very protective of their reigns, that’s all. Now Ms. Taylor, I was wondering if you’d given any more thought to that talk we had the other day. Willing to make certain changes to suit the new product?

Isabella takes a long, deep breath, as if she’s actually thinking about it carefully, before bending down over Jerm’s desk, leaning in real close to him, making sure he gets the message.

Isabella: Over my dead body.

As Isabella pushes herself back from the desk ready to leave and compete in her match, Jerm rises to his own feet, muttering something along the lines of “I thought as much�?

Jerm: Ms. Taylor, we’re not done yet. You know the Anarchy Rumble is coming up, so you should know that we need to start drawing numbers for entrants pretty soon too.

Jerm backs away from his desk, opening a back door to his office, perhaps a closet door, but either way, he pulls out what looks like a tombola. The sight of it causes Isabella to stop in her tracks, looking it and Jerm over suspiciously, she knows something’s going on here.

Isabella: Don’t we usually draw numbers at the actual Pay Per View? It’s a little early, don’t you think Jerm?

Jerm: It’s never too early Ms. Taylor. Please, take your pick.

She raises an eyebrow at him, as he spins the revolving drum, the small balls with numbers inside rattling as they roll over one another. Still glaring a hole through Jerm, Isabella steps forward, picking a ball out and opening it up, examining the number, her eyes shooting open widely as she spots it.

Isabella: Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! This is far too convenient for my liking Jerm.

Jerm: Can’t help the luck of the draw Ms. Taylor.

Jerm closes up the drum, rolling it off to his side as Isabella stares at her chosen number, then back up at the Jerm, who just smirks nastily at her.

Jerm: Can’t touch you, huh?

Jerm almost whispers these words, so the two gentlemen cannot hear him incriminate himself, as it’s now obvious he has rigged the tombola just to get at Isabella for humiliating him. Isabella glares hard at him, before spinning around and storming out of the room, the piece of paper with her number on fluttering out of her grasp as she slams the office door shut. We watch her stomp off down the hallway, off to her match, as the paper flutters to the ground, the camera zooming in on it carefully.